The Obsequy of faire Phillida With the Shepheards and Nymphs lamentation for her losse.
To a new Court Tune.
THe fairest Nymph that vallyes
Or Mountaines euer bred,
The shepheards joy,
So beautifull and coy,
Faire Phillida is dead;
On whom they oft haue tended,
And carol'd on the Plaines
And for her sake
Sweet Roundelayes did make,
Admir'd by rurall Swaines:
But cruell Fates the beauties enuying
Of this blooming Rose,
So ready to disclose,
With a frost vnkindly
Nipt the bud vntimely,
So away her glory goes.
The Sheep for woe goe bleating,
That they their Goddesse misse,
And sable Ewes,
By their mournfull shewes,
Her absence, cause of this;
The Nymphs leaue off their dancing,
Pans Pipe of joy is cleft;
For great's his griefe,
He shunneth all reliefe,
Since she from him is reft.
Come, fatall Sisters, leaue there your spooles
Leaue mourning altogether,
That made this flower to wither:
Let enuy, that foule Vipresse,
Put on a wreath of Cypresse,
Singing sad Dirges altogether.
Diana was chiefe mourner,
At these sad Obsequies,
Who with her traine
Went tripping ore the Plains,
Singing dolefull Elegies:
Menalchus and Amintas,
And many Shepheards moe,
With mournefull Verse,
Did all attend her Hearse,
And in sable sadly goe:
Flora, the Goddes that vsed to beautify
Faire Phillis louely bowers,
With swéet fragrant flowers,
Now her graue adorned,
And with flowers mourned.
Teares thereon in vaine she powres.
Venus alone triumphed,
To see this dismall day,
Who did despaire,
That Phillida the faire
Her lawes would nere obey.
The blinded boy his arrowes
And Darts were vainely spent:
Her heart, alas,
Inpenetrable was,
And to loue would nere assent:
At which affront Citharea repined,
'Cause death with his Dart,
Had pierc't her tender heart:
Bat her noble spirit
Doth such joyes inherit,
Which from her shall nere depart.
A Ballad Intituled, The Old Mans Complaint against his Wretched Son, who to Advance his Marriage, did undo himself.
To the same Tune.
ALL you that fathers be,
look on my misery,
Let not affection fond
work your extremity,
For to advance my son
in marriage wealthily,
I have my self undone
without all remedy.
I that was wont to live
uncontroul'd any way,
With many checks & taunts
am grieved every day:
Alack and woe is me
I that might late command,
Cannot have a bit of bread
but at my Childrens hand.
While I was wont to sit
chief at the tables end,
Now like a Servant slave
must I on them attend,
I must not come in place
where their friends merry be,
Lest I should my son disgra [...]e
with my unreverency,
my Coughing in the night
offends my daughter in law,
my Deafness and ill-sight
doth much disliking draw.
Fye on this doting fool,
this crooked Churl (quoth she)
The Chimney corner still
must with him troubled be,
I must rise from my Chair
to give my children place.
I must speak servants fair,
this is my woful case.
Vnto their friends they tell
(I must not say they lie)
That they do keep me her [...]
even of meer charity.
VVhen I am sick in bed
they will not come me nigh,
Each day they wish me dead
yet say i'll never die:
O Lord an't be thy will
look on my woful case,
No honest man before
ever took such disgrace.
This was the Old-mans plaint
every night & day,
VVith woe he waxed faint,
but mark what I shall say.
This rich and dainty pair,
the young-man and his wife,
Tho' clog'd with golden coin,
yet led a grievous life.
Seven years they married were,
and yet in all that space,
God sent them ne'er an heir
their Riches to embrace:
Thus did their sorrow bréed,
joy was from them exil'd,
Quoth she, a hundred pound
would I give for a Child,
to have a joyful Child
of my own body.
Full oft I am revil'd
of this my barren womb,
much Physick did she take
to make a fruitful Soil,
And with access thereof
her body she did spoil.
Full of grief, full of pain,
full of each grew she then,
that she cries out amain,
seek for some cunning men,
that I my health may have,
I will no money spare.
But that which she did crave
never fell to her share.
Alack alack, she said,
what torments I live in,
How well are they apaid
that truly ease can win:
So that I had my health,
and from this pain was frée,
I would give all my wealth
that blessed day to see.
O that my health I had,
tho' I were ne'er so poor,
I car'd not tho' I went
begging from door to door,
fie on this muck, quoth she,
it cannot pleasure me,
in this my woful case
and great extremity.
thus lived she long in pain,
all comfort from her fled,
She strangled at the last
her self within the bed▪
Her husband full of grief
consumed wofully,
His body pin'd away,
suddenly he did die.
E're thirteen years was past
dy'd he without a will,
And by this means at last
the Old man, living still,
Enjoy'd his Land at last,
after much misery,
Many Years after that
liv'd he most happily,
far richer than before,
by this means was he known
He helpt the sick and sore,
the poor man overthrown.
But this was all his Song,
let all men understand,
those Parents are accurst,
lives on their childrens hand.
Printed by and for A.M. and sold by the Booksellers of London.